


Mahal, Have Mercy on Your Son

by LeilaSecretSmith



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Family, For all the people who hated the focus on romance instead of family in Kili's death, Gen, Not for Kiliel fans, References to Mahal, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7713565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaSecretSmith/pseuds/LeilaSecretSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks regretfully of his mother, of his people, of poor Bilbo. Even as he drowns in his own blood, he wonders how many others in the Company will join them in the Halls tonight. But these thoughts are fleeting, and as the final darkness finally claims him, his last thought is of Kili.</p><p>NOT for hardcore Kiliel fans, but definitely for people who understand canon and wanted the Fili/Kili/Thorin deaths to be FAMILY FOCUSED, DAMMIT</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mahal, Have Mercy on Your Son

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by HeartsOfCourage by creepy9 on DeviantArt (http://creepy9.deviantart.com/art/HeartsOfCourage-353266793), and also by my lingering anger at the way BotFA treated Fili's and Kili's deaths. It should have been family-focused, not whatever the heck that not-even-close-to-canon, Mary-sue-esque, Legomance-esque DISASTER was.

              It smells like copper and rot. The world is all agony and grief, red and ringing. Fili never thought he could feel like this, never thought it was possible to feel _so much pain_ all at once. He always thought that his death would be quick and noble, that the greatest pain he would ever endure was watching his birth father die. Now he knows better.

              “F-fi?”

              Fili forces his eyes open, blinking a few time to clear the haze that obscures his vision. Kili, sweet Kili, with his face bloodied and battered, comes into focus. He too is laying on the blood-soaked, muddied ground, hands curled uselessly around his shattered bow. The younger dwarrow’s gentle brown eyes are filled with childlike fear.

              “I’m here, Ki.” Fili forces the words though his lips; the pain of the arrow in his lung is nothing when he has a chance to soothe his baby brother. “I’m here.” He inches his hand out from his side, ignoring the agony in his torso, and manages to grab one of Kili’s hands.

              “F-fi, I’m sc-cared,” Kili chokes out, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth and dripping into the mud. Tears—Fili can’t remember the last time Kili allowed his older brother to see him cry—stream from his eyes, cutting tracts into the dirt on his face.

              Fili forces himself to move, closing the distance between them in inching movements. He’s panting by the time he’s close enough to press their foreheads together, unable to stop the reflexive tears of pain that stream down his own face. “It’s alright, Ki,” he gasps, putting as much sincerity into has words as he can. “It’s alright. Don’t be scared. I’m here.”

              “Stay with me,” Kili begs. Fili can see the light slowly draining from his brother’s eyes; it feels like his heart is being torn in two, and the only comfort he has is knowing that he will follow shortly after.

              “I’ll stay,” he whispers, moving his free hand to cradle Kili’s jaw. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep, I promise.”

              Kili sobs convulsively, painting his pale lips in glistening crimson. Some of it splatters onto Fili, but he couldn’t care less.

              “Close your eyes,” the elder says.  He can feel his own body failing, his voice a weak rasp. “Close your eyes. I will stay,” he repeats, stroking his thumb across Kili’s jaw. The younger obeys, too weak to resist even if he wanted to.

              Fili allows his tears to fall freely as his listens to his brother’s rasping breaths grow weaker and weaker. He whispers in khuzdul, breaking off into choked sobs only when Kili’s body finally goes slack and his hand releases the death grip it had on Fili’s.

              _Mahal,_ _have mercy on your son_ , he begs in his mind, grief overtaking him as he closes his own eyes and shuts out the sight of his dead baby brother. _Reunite us, quickly_. His father is dead. Thorin, his uncle-turned-adopted-father, is also dead. Kili is dead. And soon, he will follow.

              Blackness eats away at the edges of his mind; his chest heaves, breath refusing to come. His hand tightens around Kili’s, savoring the lingering warmth. _Mahal, have mercy on me._ He thinks regretfully of his mother, of his people, of poor Bilbo. Even as he drowns in his own blood, he wonders how many others in the Company will join them in the Halls tonight.

But these thoughts are fleeting, and as the final darkness finally claims him, his last thought is of Kili.


End file.
